Rome (Italy, not Georgia)
My parents are off to two weeks in Rome; I just got back from dropping them off at the airport. (Driving my dad’s car was, um, interesting. The clutch sticks, and the car itself is bigger than my little Bug, and I can’t figure out the accessory buttons so I drove back the entire way listening to the engine rev weirdly instead of listening to music. Unnerving. I guess I’m used to a turbo diesel instead of a Saturn now.)
Airport traffic was not bad, but people are cutthroat when it comes to the dropoff/pickup area and will not let you in unless you barge. Seriously. I sat there for several minutes waiting politely, blinker on, but not even the barest hint of a gap appeared. Driving an unfamiliar car that isn’t mine, I was certainly not about to try barging and possibly clip someone in my weirdly sized car, or present my dad with a newly dented car. Finally a passing airport cop took pity on me and literally forced people to let me in. Pathetic of me, but kind of him.
The only other relevant bit of news is that my mom might be teaching this summer, which would mean that she couldn’t go on the Ireland tour we’ve scheduled in May. I don’t particularly fancy going on a tour by myself — not being much of a tour person anyway, and certainly not keen on the idea if I don’t know anyone else in the group — but I’m kind of primed for travel. If she winds up teaching, I may see about setting up something on my own. Not sure what, exactly. Maybe Seattle. Maybe Vegas (again). Maybe Maine, though I wonder whether I could find something not fishy to eat there. Ooh, I wonder how much flights to Provence cost? Probably a lot, especially around summer.
Well, at least I’ve got time to plan.
